


tired

by certifiedweirdo



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Exhaustion, Fainting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homework, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, based on my life lol, peter faints, probably inaccurate because im not smart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedweirdo/pseuds/certifiedweirdo
Summary: Peter is an idiot.Why the hell does he do this every week? Procrastination is a bitch, and now he has to do 4 days of homework in less than one. Shit!





	tired

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I take what happens in my life and make it happen in characters lives because I'm creative :)

This day was going to suck. 

Of course, once again, he’d left all of his homework for Sunday, even having had Friday to get it done as there’d been no school. On top of that, his teachers had assigned extra work since the students got an extra day. So, instead of getting it all done early like he’d planned and having a day to relax, he was probably going to spend the entirety of it doing his homework. Shit. He really wanted a nap right now. If only he could pause the world for a little while to sleep, then do his work. Wouldn’t that be great?

Peter finally gathered enough energy to lift his arms a miniscule amount. He sat in a chair in the lounge room, which was damn comfortable, and he didn’t feel like removing him from it any time soon. How long he’d sat there for, he had no idea, but he’d scrolled through so many memes on his phone that they were all blurring together in his mind.

Was it even possible for his limbs to feel so heavy? Or legal? Apparently. 

A loud sigh escaped his body as he finally stood, feeling embarrassingly proud of himself for doing so. Wow. Peter reached down and grabbed his phone, before turning and heading down the stairs to his room. As he started down the stairs, though, his vision filled with spots. Ah, just the normal “I-hardly-slept-last-night-and-I-can’t-remember-if-I-ate-anything-all-day” dizziness. He grabbed onto the handrail as his vision blurred a bit more, cursing himself out mentally. Did he forget to eat breakfast or was this intense vertigo just caused by his sitting immobile in that chair for so long? In his current state of mind, he could not remember. 

He didn’t remember it usually being this bad, or for this long. Wasn’t it usually over by now? Well, he just had to close his eyes for a moment and it’d all go away, right? Yeah, usually. His thoughts didn’t seem to be making sense much anymore. 

Was he still holding onto the railing? He couldn’t really feel his limbs at the moment—or the rest of his body for that matter. What was up with that? That didn’t usually happen, from what he could remember. Shit. He vaguely noticed his legs and arms hurting, as if he’d launched himself at the floor or something. Why the hell would he do that? Nothing made sense anymore. 

Peter realized that the dizziness was a bit better, so now would probably be a good time to open his eyes. Dazed, he did so. What the hell? Life was confusing. Was he at the bottom of the stairs? Why? He closed his eyes again for a moment as the dizziness came rushing back. Did he teleport down here? Why did nothing make sense? 

He realized that teleportation, while being his brain’s first explanation, was not the most accurate. The logical part of his brain said that he probably fainted and fell down the stairs. Not quite as cool as teleporting there, but still weird. That never happened. He also realized his eyes were still closed and opened them to look at the ceiling. 

Yep, he probably passed out. Here he was, laying at the bottom of the staircase like a weirdo. Peter also noticed the man right by his head, scaring the crap out of him.

He jumped back a bit—well, as much as he could, considering he was laying on the floor, then addressed the man. “Oh, hey there, Tony what’s u—” He cut himself off with a couple words not to be repeated as the feeling came back into his body instantly and he felt a rush of pain in his legs and arms. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t been feeling his body for the past few moments. That’s weird. It was also then that he realized his knees and elbows were bleeding—nothing he couldn’t handle, for sure. 

Mr. Stark didn’t seem to think the same. At the teenager’s expression of pain, came his of concern, and he promptly asked if Peter was okay. A stupid question, really.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter hoisted himself up on his elbow as he spoke with a smile, ignoring the pain that came with. He mentally cursed his stupidity once again. 

“Yeah, right.” Tony gave him a once-over, eyeing the cuts on his legs. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you to the medical wing.”

Peter, however, insisted he was fine. “I really don’t need to.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

Okay, maybe Peter was still the slightest bit dizzy, he admitted as Mr. Stark helped him to his feet. He shut his eyes for a moment as his vision became spotty again. Yeah, just a little bit dizzy. 

He didn’t really pay attention as he walked with Tony’s help to the other side of the building. The only thing that registered in his brain was the sound of their footsteps on the floor, nothing else. 

Apparently, they’d arrived, but Peter was practically asleep by that point. Tony had been trying to make sure he stayed conscious, unsure of whether the teenager had hit his head when he fell. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to let a possibly concussed kid fall unconscious. 

Someone was snapping their fingers in Peter’s face. Rude. He looked the hand, which was attached to a certain Dr. Bruce Banner. Peter greeted him, like any sane person would. 

“What happened?” Bruce asked, and Tony answered for Peter, for which he was very grateful. Maybe he could take a quick nap while they chatted. He wasn’t listening to what they were saying, but apparently, they’d started talking to him, and it seemed like he should probably answer whatever they just said. If only he knew what exactly that was. 

“Huh?” Tony rolled his eyes, but Bruce repeated the question.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Nope.” Peter paused. “Well, at least I don’t think.” Tony glared at him at the second part of his response. 

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“I don’t know.” When the other two people in the room said nothing else, he continued. “I don’t track exactly how many hours of sleep I get each night.” 

Tony spoke up again. “Then estimate.”

“Uh. . .” Fuck. When did he go to sleep? “Like five hours.”

Tony glared at Peter as he said his estimate. That was nowhere near enough sleep. He vaguely registered what a big hypocrite he was being, but who cares?

The questions continued— “What did you eat for breakfast?” “Where did you get hurt?” “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”—until Peter had absolutely no idea what time it was but all he cared about was getting to sleep. Homework didn’t matter anymore. Bruce patched up the cuts on his knees and elbows, even though he had advanced healing and they’d pretty much be gone in a few hours anyway. After umpteen questions and a substantial amount of concerned glared from Tony, the two adults decided that Peter was okay to go to sleep.

The last thought in Peter’s brain before he fell asleep was that of the protection of Tony and the other avengers. He dreamt in a state of contentment with that thought never leaving his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on here, and my first ever marvel fic, so please be nice and give kudos and whatever because I need constant validation :)


End file.
